


Love Hard When There Is Love To Be Had.

by ghettoassenglishman



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff though, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Love, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Quote fic, based on the Bob Marley Quote, i did another one, little angst, set out like my "What's a Soulmate?" fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 13:31:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3448946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghettoassenglishman/pseuds/ghettoassenglishman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Mick. Did. Something. Happen?” Ian asked between kisses.</p><p>Mickey rested their foreheads together. “Terry. He's fucking six feet under.” Ian's face spilt into a smile, something he wished he could see forever, the redhead pulled him into another kiss, laughing happily into his mouth. Terry couldn't hold them back anymore.</p><p>From a Quote by Bob Marley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Hard When There Is Love To Be Had.

**Author's Note:**

> Italics is the quote btw
> 
> any errors I shall change tomorrow when I'm on my laptop

_**Only once in your life, I truly believe, you find someone who can completely turn your world around.** _

 

If anyone had told Mickey that he would be sat in the Gallagher house, hand in hand with the most adorable-handsome-fucker he had ever seen, who was a _man,_ while listening to the stories from Carl and actually tolerating Lip who was still and asshole; He would of rip their guts out with the end of his gun and beat them raw into the dirt.

 

Sometimes he wished he could go back, tell himself that it would be okay one day, to tell himself not to go so hard on Ian. But that was all bullshit. Even after all the hard-shit, the heartbreaks, the cowardice, the beating, it was still worth it. He would of never guessed that the unexpected moments would be the best ones.

 

It was evident, like a stamp to his forehead, that Mickey's world had been tipped on its head by the one and only Ian Gallagher.

 

**_You tell them things that you've never shared with another soul and they absorb everything you say and actually want to hear more._ **

 

“Can I tell you something?” Mickey whispered, not sure whether Ian was still awake. The redhead was stuck to his chest, head balancing in the space between his neck and shoulder. Something had triggered him to speak up, a distant memory he wanted to share.

 

Ian peeped one eye open, a weak smile breaching. “You know you can tell me everything.” his voice was a little hoarse, a croak in his voice from tiredness. Usually Ian was the one talking; it was nice to have a change.

 

“Its really fucking dumb, but-my mom used to tell me that I had to protect myself, she had warned me about the dangers of this fucking place, but it wasn't like she prepared me for my dad. I mean, I guess I knew what he was like, but not that _bad._ When shit got bad I had to protect her and Mandy and then she killed herself; Mandy cried so much that night, I didn't. I couldn't fucking move because I know I failed her.” His eyes were brimming with tears but his managed to busk the strength to push back. Ian stared intensely, listening to every word, every detail, and absorbed it all.

 

“I guess it just came back when I saw you-you, y'know.” he didn't want to think of the time Ian nearly left the world. “I just don't want to fucking fail you, like I did her.”

 

“You won't Mickey, the only person who can fail me is myself and you've got me wrapped around you like some fucking sloth and I'm never letting go.” Ian scooted closer, tangling their legs together and playing with the skin around his collar.

 

“Tell me about her.” Ian's voice was soft against his skin.

 

“Who?”

 

“Your mom. What was she like?” Ian asked, his eyes bright against the minimal light coming through the room. Mickey nearly choked on his words, nobody had ever asked for him to speak about his mom, they never bothered with it. Ian Gallagher was always full of unexpectedness.

 

**_You share hopes for the future, dreams that will never come true, goals that were never achieved and the many disappointments life has thrown at you._ **

 

They were sat under the small light of the bleachers, side by side they sat as they passed the joint back and forth. They had finally got a free night – no jobs, no babysitting or therapy appointments- they finally got peace. The silence that held them wasn't deadly, it was calm- it was something they couldn't explain but it made them feel like it was just _them._

 

Ian had been the one to spilt the silence, “You think we're still gonna be here in like, ten years?” his question was simple but provided a infinite amount of answers. Mickey directed his eyes towards Ian, biting the inside of his mouth because the answer was impossible to conclude.

 

“I don't know man, this place is home. Another place is like another fucking life, I like what we got.” It was short, it was sweet. It was everything Ian needed to hear. But he still had questions, he still wanted to know what Mickey thought about the future.

 

“So you don't wish that maybe we were born in different places, different families, somewhere we can actually be accepted and not get mugged at the corner of the block?”

 

Mickey blew out the smoke from his joint, “If that was the fucking case then how would I have met you, dumb ass?”

 

“I dunno, I always thought that if I'd gone to West Point and became an officer I'd end up coming back for you.” Ian ducked his head shyly, trying to forget the fact that what he had built his life-plan out on was nothing but a speck of dirt now. “I always thought that maybe I could be something,you know?”

 

“You are something. You're Ian fucking Gallagher, the dude that kicks me up the ass when I need to think straight, you're the guy that makes sure your family ain't falling apart even if you were too. Jesus, Ian, you don't need to get fucking blown up just to show you're a hero.” It all came rushing back and he wasn't sure if it was the distant alcohol brewing or the recent joint he just smoked.

 

“You really think so?” Ian asked, still doubtful.

 

Mickey nodded his head with confirmation, “I fucking know so.”

 

_**When something wonderful happens, you can't wait to tell them about it, knowing they will share in your excitement.** _

 

It was the best thing he had ever heard – the words that he waited with hope to hear. _Terry Milkovich is dead._ It was like a weight off his shoulders, life telling him that one thing that fucked him up so bad could finally leave the world. As soon as the news broke out in the middle of the alibi he couldn't help himself from running back home to tell Ian.

 

When he burst through the door he found Ian feeding Yev in his highchair, humming an aeroplane noise as he put the spoon into the baby's mouth. It warmed his heart, as much as possible, but he discarded that thought for just a moment to break the news to his lover. He almost ran over, already attacking Ian's lips with his own.

 

“Mick. Did. Something. Happen?” Ian asked between kisses.

 

Mickey rested their foreheads together. “Terry. He's fucking six feet under.” Ian's face spilt into a smile, something he wished he could see forever, the redhead pulled him into another kiss, laughing happily into his mouth. Terry couldn't hold them back anymore.

 

“You hear that Yev?” Ian stopped to tickle the little boy who had been watching them curiously. “Ding, Dong the fucking witch is dead!”

 

**_They are not embarrassed to cry with you when you are hurting..._ **

 

It was sudden. Like it always was. Mickey had come home to greet his boyfriend with his usual attire but what he was faced with was his own _hell._ Ian was led on his side, sobbing as he faced the wall away from their opened bedroom door. Svetlana had come by then, telling him that Ian hadn't moved all day and that she'd tried to feed him but he wouldn't take any of it. Mickey had nodded, closed the door behind him, stripping from his clothes and climbing in behind the fragile boy he wished the world to.

 

“Ian?” He whispered into the redheads pale neck. No answer. He could of guessed, all the taller boy could wrack his way was more sobs, his body shaking violently. Mickey couldn't watch this happen, he couldn't let the boy break even _more._ Gently, he pulled the boy around to his hold, ignoring the instant protests, he kissed him on the forehead. “What's going on?” Because sometimes it was okay to ask.

 

It took a while for Ian to speak, almost an hour, but Mickey stayed and waited. He always waited. “I-I- It's just so much, I'm so fucked up.” It was just a whisper but Mickey caught it, a throb threatening at his throat.

 

Saying “It will be okay” was not going to help Ian. He had learnt that now. “I'm fucking here, don't you forget that.” He felt the tears against his skin, his own matching with Ian's. He would do anything for the broken-boy, fucking _anything._

 

**_...or laugh with you when you make a fool of yourself._ **

 

Ian was singing in the kitchen, high off his fucking ass. “Mickey! Mickey!” He continued to call out to him, dragging his ass away from his reality Tv marathon. Mickey walked up to him, leaning against the frame of the wall, a wide grin spreading across his face.

 

“What the fuck are you doing?”

 

Ian shook his hips, failing to form some sort of dance routine that resembled a cheerleader. “Oh, Mickey you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind..” He chucked his hands up in the air dramatically. “HEY MICKEY!” it had been going on for about an hour now.

 

Watching the shambles-high-boyfriend Mickey flipped him off before laughing at the failed splits attempt from Ian. “Maybe you should of learnt how to do the splits instead of all that army shit.”

 

The singing had stopped and the redhead was lying against the flat, cold floor. “I think I've popped my balls, man.” He looked dazed, giggling up to the ceiling.

 

“You're such a fucking idiot.” Mickey mumbled, reaching down to pull Ian up, he wasn't risk Ian popping his nuts any longer. He needed that fucking nuts.

 

**_Never do they hurt your feelings or make you feel like you are not good enough, but rather they build you up and show you the things about yourself that make you special and even beautiful._ **

 

“For fuck sakes!” Ian heard a scream flowing from the bathroom. Mickey had been in there for nearly fifteen minutes, Ian hadn't even noticed until Fiona had text him asking where their asses were. They both had to have dinner at Gus' place, an announcement or some shit. Ian wasn't exactly sure who Gus was but if free food was involved he couldn't really complain. He heard the thug shout once more and he took his queue to go check it out.

 

Mickey was fussing in front of the mirror, hand in his hair trying to push back a strand that was making it stand by falling against his forehead. “I'm going to fucking shave it off.”

 

Ian rushed in, because he loved nothing more than to pull on Mickey's hair, shaving it off was defiantly not an option. “Mick, it looks fine. _You_ look fine.” He knew how insecure Mickey would get, even if the little-thug didn't admit to it.

 

“Easy for you to fucking say, you could roll out of bed and still look fucking good.” Mickey growled to himself, bracing himself against the sink with frustration. The strand was still playing up and he could literally feel it laughing at him.

 

Ian turned the smaller boy around by his shoulders, tilting his head with a raised eyebrow. “You have nothing to worry about, you're fucking hot and that strand of hair makes you _even_ more hot. So suck it up, we've got some food we gotta eat. No one ditches out on a free buffet.”

 

“Fucking fine, have it your way.” Mickey rolled his eyes, huffing a breath to try rid the piece of hair out of his eye-line.

 

**_There is never any pressure, jealousy or competition but only a quiet calmness when they are around._ **

 

Ian had gone back to the club to earn a couple more bucks for the meter, luckily he wasn't a dancer no more – after Mickey smashing the bosses head off the desk and demanding Ian got a job behind the bar, there had been no second thought – it didn't stop Mickey from thinking about the fucks that were most likely wanting to bone Ian, wanting to pay him up for some affair sex.

 

Ian had been stable for a while, a couple of lows but they worked it out, Ian wouldn't cheat on him again. That was something he knew now. It didn't stop the feelings of dread and it pissed him off more that he couldn't sit at the bar and look out for Ian, not now that he had to look after his son. clubs were no place for a little baby, that was for sure.

 

Mickey trusted Ian, with everything. Nothing was going to happen, he knew Ian would always choose him. Jealously had always been his weakest trait, but he had learned how to push it down when Ian would continue to plough him with words that made him believe Ian was his; and just his.

 

The bedroom door opened, was it that time already? Ian had pulled himself against Mickey's back and it was a rush of belief, and calmness, that Ian smelt like himself; no fuck with a wad of money, no twink looking out for a cheap fuck, he smelt like _Ian,_ and that's all he wanted.

 

 

**_You can be yourself and not worry about what they will think of you because they love you for who you are._ **

 

“Do you ever wish that I was different?” The question came out of the blue, waking Mickey up from his upcoming slumber. He groaned, Ian's questions always came out in the early hours of the morning.

 

“What?” Mickey asked, already knowing the question he just wanted to make sure. “What kind of stupid-ass question is that, fuck off Gallagher you know what I think.”

 

Ian hid his face, shyly, still not sure about Mickey's answer and if it was genuine. “So, if I didn't have this shitty disorder wouldn't want me?” Because he wanted a boyfriend who was fucked up, seriously.

 

“Stop being such an idiot, I would kick non-bipolar you ass because he ain't _you.”_ Mickey jabbed Ian's chest, shaking his head because God, Ian was so dumb at times, he really couldn't see how much he was worth, and how much Mickey was going to stay.

 

“I think that's the sweetest thing that's ever left your mouth, you drink some romance potion or some shit?” Ian teased, threatening to tickle Mickey's side with his long fingers. It was shit that he knew all of Mickey's sensitive points, he could get him kicking and squirming in seconds.

 

“Don't you fucking dare.” Mickey warned him with stern eye, already moving away from the magnet touch that he felt in the gap between his skin and Ian's hands. Ian launched anyway.

 

**_The things that seem insignificant to most people such as a note, song or walk become invaluable treasures kept safe in your heart to cherish forever._ **

 

The long walk, which wasn't a hike but still, from the Gallagher house was bristled with silence. Ian and Mickey were tired as shit and all they could hear was the calling of their bed. It was so easy for the Gallagher clan to tire them out, especially if you had been left to look after the little shits all day.

 

They were rounding the block and Mickey snook a glance towards Ian, the smiling boy that was actively pretending to be a dragon in a sense, he slowed his pace a little so he was hung just a foot back. If anything, Ian's ass never failed to make him feel that tingly shit rush through him. It all came to his mind, maybe it was because he was tired; he didn't fucking know, but he felt the need to look Ian over more.

 

How could he have pushed aside how fucking hot Ian was, how fucking lucky he was just to be walking with this guy. Mickey always remembered how he had taken that all for granted, how he had pushed that all away and not thought twice about it. God, he'd been so fucking stupid. His body pushed him forward, and this time he couldn't stop himself.

 

Ian must have seen his flushed face because he mumbled something into the kiss Mickey pelted into into him. Their lips touched and Mickey swore he felt a spark somewhere inside of him, that or Ian was pinching his ass. He rested their foreheads together, the mist from their breaths surrounding them. Ian's hand cupped the back of his head and they locked gazes, a silence holding them. But it was a silence that meant everything.

 

**_Memories of your childhood come back and are so clear and vivid it’s like being young again._ **

 

It was getting hot and heavy, empty house meant fucking all over the place, well for Ian and Mickey. They were sprawled against the couch, the brunette straddling Ian, his lips sucking a mark against the other boys pale neck. Ian was frantically thrusting into him, hands digging into this hips as the rhythm got more furious, some thrusts uncoordinated since Mickey was making Ian's eyes roll back as he rode him into the back of the couch. “ _Shit,_ Mickey.”

 

Mickey shushed him with a shaky finger to his lips, pushing himself down harder, matching Ian's thrusts. The movement got more erratic each time Ian hit that spot, Mickey braced himself with a firm hand to the back of the couch and the other against Ian's chest. “Fuck, you look so good like this.” he muttered, catching Ian's upcoming moving mouth with his own.

 

With a couple more thrusts, Ian was coming up close, by Mickey's varied breathing he could tell Mickey was too. It was all blurred and the sensation burned like a moth to a flame, but fuck he wouldn't trade it for the world. They cried out, rolling against each other as the sensitivity started to kick in. Fuck, they had never felt so fucking young.

 

“Shit, why did we ever stop fucking on the couch.” Ian breathed into Mickey's neck, hands still grasping Mickey's ass, protectively.

 

**_Colours seem brighter and more brilliant. Laughter seems part of daily life where before it was infrequent or didn’t exist at all._ **

 

“Hey Mickey?” Ian called from the bedroom, his voice already shuddering with laughter.

 

Mickey rolled his eyes, this shit had been going on all day; Ian telling jokes, Ian laughing at himself, Ian plunging on Mickey annoying him until he laughed to. God. “Don't tell me, you got another shit joke prepared for me?”

 

“Hey, it ain't shit!” Ian answered defensively, leaning against the frame of the door looking towards Mickey's turned head. “What do you call an Mexican with a rubber toe?”

 

“A fucking freak, that's what.” Mickey took a gulp from his beer, eyes still watching Ian's chest heave up and down as it tried to hold back.

 

Ian burst out into a fit of giggles, failing each time he tried to open his mouth to finish the joke. “Ro- phew – Ro- fucking hell.” He clutched his chest trying to breath normally so he could actually get the joke out. Mickey, however, was waiting impatiently. “ROBERTO!”

 

Ok, so maybe the joke was a little funny. “Are you fucking serious?” Mickey tried to hide his smile,looking at the idiot of his boyfriend brace himself against the wall as he laugh echoed through the room. Ok, maybe Mickey laughed a little, but only a little. Pfft.

 

_**A phone call or two during the day helps to get you through a long day’s work and always brings a smile to your face.** _

 

Veronica had been biting his head, literally _all_ day, he missed Kev being behind the bar – even if the jokes took the piss sometimes. The milk factory upstairs was still in running and shit, he was still surprised that it was making money, he would of never guessed.

 

After a glass of Jacks he felt his pocket vibrating, it was Ian. “What you want, Firecrotch?” A couple of heads turned at the nickname, he flipped them off with pleasure.

 

“Hey Mick, we're at the store you want anything?”

 

Mickey gestured for a refill, before answering tiredly. “You seriously rang me to ask what I need from the fucking store?”

 

Ian huffed over the line, humming into the speaker. “Don't sound to excited, Jesus. I know that you get grumpy when I don't buy you shit you don't want, also 'lana wanted some cash or some shit.” God, he could of guessed, really. It didn't help him that he couldn't stop the smile bearing on his face.

 

Mickey never thought he'd see the day. “Svetlana is actually going to the fucking store, is it christmas or some shit?” He took a large gulp from his drink, shrugging towards Veronica who looked at Frank, who was sprawled against the counter top, almost crying.

 

He heard Ian telling 'lana, that little betraying shit. His voice came back to the phone. “She mumbled some Russian shit but I guess she's calling you an asshole.” Ian laughed, the Russian slurs and Yev giggling evident in the background.

 

“You getting me some Poptarts or what?” Mickey abrubtly asked because he didn't want to encounter an empty pack in the morning, let alone _ever._

 

Mickey could literally feel Ian saluting through the line. “Yes, Sir. Anything else? Maybe a dose of joy, how about some Crunchy nut? We all know how much you love nuts, Mick.” the little shit giggled, he could even hear 'lana laughing in the background. Ian was dead meat when he got home.

 

“Shut the fuck up or you're not getting fucked tonight.” Mickey threatened, knowing that plan would defiantly fail by the time he got home.

 

“I'm pretty sure I'm the one that does the fucking.”

 

“Seriously, I'm going to shove my foot right up your ass.” Threats, threats. More like pansy banter that he would like to, but would never, go ahead with.

 

Ian tutted, “Yeh. Yeh, tough guy. Anyway, gotta shoot, I have to make sure I get them poptarts. Love you, Mick.” They never really said it that much, they didn't really need to, but Ian was always a sucker for the romantic shit.

 

“You too asshole.” Maybe he could hold this smile for the rest of the day.

 

_**In their presence, there’s no need for continuous conversation, but you find you’re quite content in just having them nearby.** _

 

The Gallagher house was immensely quiet, all the family were asleep by now, other than Mickey and Ian. They could talk but they didn't need to, the way they touch said enough. Ian's fingers were playing around the collar of Mickey's neck, dipping into the hallow skin and back up over the present bones peeping out underneath it. Mickey's hand was running back and forth over Ian's ribs, the bumps like little sand hills that shivered each time his fingertips moved. For once conversation wasn't need, they could just settle in the silence because they had eachother. Call them corny, but sometimes this is all they wanted.

 

**_Things that never interested you before become fascinating because you know they are important to this person who is so special to you._ **

 

“I thought you hated it.” Ian spoke over to Mickey who was on the other side of the couch, Ian's legs ontop of his lap. Ian had been caught up with a book recently, he'd been reading a lot of sappy shit and he'd come across, “One Day” and Mickey wasn't entirely excited by it. Not at all. But when Ian's lips moved, anything seemed good.

 

“I still do.” Mickey scoffed, leaning down to grab his cold beer that was sat next to the bottom of the couch. He had always hated books, maybe he'd to start liking them now?

 

“So why do you want me to read it?” Ian began to question, a sniggering tone in his voice. He knew he had Mickey. He knew Mickey too well and he could instantly know when the other boy was lying, one bite of his lip and he was in crucial caught moment.

 

Mickey shifted awkwardly, trying to get comfortable in a uncomfortable situation. “Just read me the fucking book , Gallagher.” It wasn't like he would just blurt out that he could get hard by looking at the curve of Ian's lips or the way he licked the seam as he flicked a page, no he wouldn't do that. Not at all.

 

**_You think of this person on every occasion and in everything you do. Simple things bring them to mind like a pale blue sky, gentle wind or even a storm cloud on the horizon._ **

 

Ian had gone down to Lips college for a week, leaving Mickey with a screaming baby and a hormonal, pregnant Russian, things couldn't be better. Pfft. If that was true he'd have to cut off his ears because he was never getting silence at this rate. The thing was, everything reminded him of Ian and it was pissing him off. How clingy was he getting? Jesus. Ian had attacked Mickey's phone the night before, sending him loads of photos of just his face, a little bit of ab action, maybe a couple of dick-pics but obviously he deleted them he didn't want Yev accidentally coming across them and thinking it was some sort of exotic fruit.

 

That was another thing. Even Yev was reminding him of Ian, some-how the kid had inherited the chin and not forgetting the lob-sided grin Ian would always give. Mickey knew he did it a lot, but not that much for his kid to be imitating him and being a little, stubborn shit – just like Ian. Then again, Yev called Ian “dada” more than he did Mickey, so it ain't all shit.

 

Basically, he couldn't get rid of Gallagher. Never. He'd gone to see his brother and yet Mickey had been left with every ounce of him, not that he was complaining of course – he had told Ian to fuck Lip off, that guy had loads of friends he could smoke weed with on a week basis, he didn't need Ian to trek down there just for a couple of beers and a quick, shit joint. Mickey was the one that needed him for that shit, not his dick brother.

 

 

**_You open your heart knowing that there’s a chance it may be broken one day and in opening your heart, you experience a love and joy that you never dreamed possible._ _You find that being vulnerable is the only way to allow your heart to feel true pleasure that’s so real it scares you._**

 

They couldn't say they had a perfect relationship, because they didn't. They never had. They never had a day where they never bickered or said some shit they didn't mean, there was no such thing as a perfect couple? A perfect match? No. Their relationship was their own and they liked it like that, they didn't need to be perfect to know that.

 

They had fallen out for almost three days (such a long time, I know) and Ian nearly found himself going insane. They had fought over Ian not wanting to be treated like glass, as he had had a huge fall just weeks prior, and Mickey had turned up the tables shouting about how he'd cared for Ian the best he could. Ian knew that, but he had always been a speak-first kinda guy and accidentally spoke the wrong words resulting in Mickey telling him to get out. His heart it had shattered, not like it did back then, but still, it had a dint where Mickey used to lay. God, he had become dramatic.

 

They would make it up in the morning, he knew that for sure, even though they had fought they were still texting like they would any normal day. Mickey just needed to cool off, Ian too. Soon they would be crawling at eachothers clothes, mouth never apart, and soon they would be laying down and relishing in their time together – because that was what they fucking did. They bickered, they kissed, they loved, they fucked. It was them, and god it felt so good.

 

_**You find strength in knowing you have a true friend and possibly a soul mate who will remain loyal to the end.** _

 

“Do you believe in soulmates?” Ian asked, the spray of the shower hitting against their close chests and bodies. They had fucked for like three hours, a wash was needed, and saving water was needed too.

 

“Do I fuck, what a pile of bullshit.” Mickey never believed in that soulmate stuff, that a person is bonded to someone, by love, and that one day they will be united and live happily ever after. There was no evidence, there was never a happy ending. As much as he wished their was, he'd never seen it. Soulmates were messy, they fucked you up, they burnt down your path and held you there. But aslong as they're there right?

 

“I think you're my soulmate.” Ian whispered, soaking a sponge with soap and water beginning to wipe down Mickey's chest. The other boy looked up to him, guilty, his eyes searching Ian's body for more answers. Ian was right, he had never seen it that way, he always thought that there was no evidence when infact the facts were staring right in his face.

 

 

**_Life seems completely different, exciting and worthwhile. Your only hope and security is in knowing that they are a part of your life._ **

 

The gingers body laid still, unmoving, fractured in his own being, against the white sheets of the hospital bed. Ian had tried to end it; end it all. Mickey had found him, next to the bath tub, arms covered in blood and a knife next to him. Mickey had scooped him up, wrapped his arms, called out for him over and over, kissing his hair, his face, anything to let him know he was still there. Still breathing. It was not long until Ian passed out and the ambulance took him away.

 

The Gallaghers had just left, including 'lana and Yev. Mickey sat at the chair beside the bed, hand in Ian's squeezing protectively because he nearly lost the person that kept him at ground for so,so long. Nothing had prepared him for that moment, _nothing._ Ian had always been the strong one, peicing everything together, making it look easy. Now Mickey was trying to pick him up, collect his shattered self and piece him back together with sweet words, soft touches, being himself was something Ian always wanted.

 

“Mick?” He heard a croaky, sobbed voice from beside him. He never moved so quickly, his eyes fully opening from the sleep deprived lids.

 

“Ian, fuck.” He leaned up, kissing at the taller boys face, his hand cupping the back of his head. “Why would you do that, fuck, never do that shit again.” He could feel himself crying, but he didn't give a flying shit – Ian had nearly left for good; not for the army, not because Mickey had pushed him so far, but worse. Ian nearly lost the battle against himself.

 

“I'm sorry.” Ian whispered into his hands, trying to avoid eye contact with Mickey because he knew he would burst if he did.

 

Mickey rushed up, placing a soft kiss against Ian's wet lips. “I'm here. I told you not to forget that. I love you, Ian. Shit. I do, so don't you ever fucking leave or I'm kicking your ass.”


End file.
